A Lesson Well Learned
by GoldenSkittle
Summary: Sarah is still very a much dreamer and lover of literature. However, she still doesn't fully understand what Jareth offered her those many years ago. She needs a lesson like no other, and this otherworldly teacher isn't known for his patience...
1. Chapter 1

**_EDIT: I decided to add an prologue after establishing a rough plot outline. I really wanted to include a lot of the stuff that I had written here into the story as it progressed but for my own sake I decided to make it into an prologue. I do apologize to anybody that has already read the first chapter. Also, I have a habit of hating what I've wrote pretty much after I've submitted it. I already want to scrap the first chapter and start again. However, I won't be doing that. Instead, I may make minor edits as I add new chapters. If I do change/add anything integral to the plot I will be sure to let you know._**

_**Do let me know what you think. I've not been in this fandom that long so If I've got any details wrong related to the canon, OOC moments, or even bad spelling and grammar please let me know ~ **_

~ Hi, Goldenskittles here!  
>Thanks for checking out my story. This is my second ever FF, and my first Labyrinth fic... I really hope I don't disgrace the original too much.<p>

I do apologize in advance for any mistakes related to the American school system, American holidays and general American terms. I'm from England, so I really have very little knowledge on how things work in the US and have been using what I know from the American tele I watched as a child.  
>I did try and ask around about how lessons are taught in American high schools, but I never got in-depth information about what is actually studied and how the lessons are taught.<p>

It wouldn't feel right if I made her English... But I am looking forward to writing Jareth bits. So yes, please bare with me! :D

If you do have any information or find any mistakes please let me know! I love critique, it helps me grow strongerer.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

_Disclaimer: I don't own Jareth, Sarah or any other characters that feature in Labyrinth. I do not own any of the books mentioned throughout the story either. I may throw a couple of OC background characters in the mix though, so if I do they belong to me (But I'm not that fussed if you take them, it's your call) :D_

* * *

><p><strong><strong><span>Prologu<span>e** To An Epilogue  
><strong>

It had been nearly three years since Sarah Williams had last confronted the Goblin King.  
>At the time she was but a naive child on the verge of adolescence, still unaware of what the world had to offer but at the same time aware that her world, at least, was a mundane place.<br>But she was a child all the same.

Even as a little girl, Sarah Williams was a dreamer who sought fulfillment through whatever she could acquire. Her room was littered with trinkets, figures and clothing which were originally gifts from her mother to get her interested in the arts. However, Sarah did not need to be swayed or convinced, she had fell in love in an instant.  
>From that point onwards the gaudy bits of props and costume had become her treasures, a torrent of glitter and colour and had transformed her room into an ethereal cove for all things magical. It was her haven, a place that would welcome her when she wanted to escape from her troubles.<br>...They were her escape.

By the age of fourteen her belief in fantasy and magic had become an integral part of her being. With age had brought a new love into her life: literature. When she was not at school or looking after her baby brother she would spent countless hours reading literature. It was not always fantasy, but anything that interested her or that she could get her hands on. Countless stories, countless tales she would read as if she was living them herself. They had filled the voids that had been created in her life and kept her having to worry about the reality she would have to face once she put the book down.  
>It had become a staple for her, to some extent it could have even been an obsession. Every night she would make sure to get some reading in before bed. It was a ritual that she loved to keep.<br>Eventually, when she could no longer keep her eyes open, she would set the book aside and take comfort in the warm embrace of sleep.

When Sarah slept she dreamed of magic.

But it was not enough. None of it was. To simply imagine something was not as good as _living _it. She longed to feel the scales of a dragon against her skin as she soured through the clouds. She wanted to feel the wind in her hair as she fled from an army of angry imps or hear the clashing of steal as a valiant knight fought for her honour.

It was that unwavering desire which, like a beacon had called out to him. It was if her soul was screaming for him to answer her calls. So he followed them on a whim, discovering something rather interesting.

* * *

><p>She was a pretty young girl with chocolate-coloured hair that framed the sides of her face and fell just past the shoulders. Her eyes were beautiful too, deep pools of the clearest emerald. If he looked close enough at the crystal, he felt as if he could peer into the depths of her soul just by looking into her eyes.<br>Then, If It wasn't the eyes that had sold it for him it was the fact that she looked like a pristine china doll, creamy pale skin, slightly flushed cheeks and blood red lips. He was sure that a painter had applied them with the greatest of care. He was equally sure that if he touched her she might break into a thousand little pieces. She looked so delicate, but at the same time it looked as if she had already been broken. Broken, but mended and made even stronger the second time around. Even when dressed in a pair of light blue jeans and a simple t-shirt, this girl certainly had beauty on a par to any fae women.

There was something about this girl that begged him to learn more, to find out every single detail about this girls life.

He couldn't help but smirked to himself as his leather fingers dallied over the smooth surface of the crystal.  
>"You are definitely <em>intriguing <em>Sarah Williams, so much so I might have to keep a close eye on you from now on... "

* * *

><p>The occasional glances at his crystal out of interest although necessary for him to "keep a close eye" had somehow accumulated to months of watching. That, in turn had led to longing, which eventually had become obsession.<br>Soon after that it became apparent that he was in love with the girl, a mortal girl none the less. But that was irrelevant, what mattered now was what he was going to do about his object of affection.  
>It was not yet the love that warranted intimacy. Even by his culture's standards she was but a bud, much too young to be plucked. However, he found himself wanting to show her what her heart desired, things that were beyond comprehension, beyond her wildest imagining, beyond the realms of reverie. He sought her happiness, as if it was the key to his own. To him, that was what love was and for now, that was enough. But in order to obtain such happiness he needed to construct a plan.<p>

He planted a small red book for her to find, knowing that once she began reading she would fall so deeply in love with its contents that the story would forever occupy her thoughts, just as it forever occupied his.

He bided his time and set to distract himself with matters of the court, with proved to be difficult considering his impatient nature. But then, one day, through a slip of the tongue and an accidental wish all his waiting had paid off. He set his plans in motions, watching from the shadows and only intervening when it was deemed necessary. He had been the villain she had dreamed about and had prepared to give her everything she could possibly wish for.  
>He had prepared to give himself.<br>_"Just_ _fear me_, _love me_, _do as I say and I will_ be _your slave..."_

But she had rejected him at the crucial moment, without even being aware of it. She did not realise his motivations behind this whole adventure. Her brother was no longer a prize, hadn't been a prize since the very beginning. He had played the villain for her sake, and it exhausted him. And how she repaid him? She had rejected him and had gone back to her family, when she could have been his.

And after several days of moping around the castle he realised that perhaps he had been too rash, too quick to hurry the process along. How could the girl have known that he wasn't being serious? He had been much too cryptic. Despite that, she had bested him at his own game, which proved her worthy of his affections. Sarah had been old enough to deal with the labyrinth, which he did not doubt in the slightest. However, she had not been old enough to deal with what he was offering her. He had probably scared the poor girl offering something that was beyond her comprehension.

But all in all, this was all just a minor discrepancy in the grand scheme of things.  
>By no means had he lost. No, the goblin king never lost.<br>His plans had merely taken a detour, something he would rectify once he had established his next move. But in order to make the next move, he had to wait a little longer.

* * *

><p>So, once again he played the waiting game. He watched from the shadows as the headstrong little girl matured into the equally fiery young woman that he knew she would become. His plans were nearly set into motion, until one day when he realised something he had not accounted for, something that was being compromised as he waited for her to mature.<br>-Her belief.  
>How could he have the girl if she didn't even believe he had existed in the first place?<p>

Sarah was getting older, her sense of realism jading her belief in the fantastical. Her adventures were becoming but a faded memory, just like the rest of her childhood. Any memory, any connections to her childhood adventures had been boxed up as and left to rot in the basement.  
>Her haven was now barren and boring. It was a shell of the dreams she once had.<p>

He had a new plan; one that was sure to succeed. He knew that he had to coax Sarah into understanding what her fifteen-year-old self had been oblivious too. He needed to re-establish the belief she once had, make her understand that it hadn't been a dream.  
>It would be too simple to just waltz back into her life, which was an appealing alternative. No, that would just lead to forced feelings. He wanted, <em>needed<em> her to realise and understand.  
>It was a challenge that would give delicious results.<p>

-And how he loved a challenge.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to burnitslowly for checking it through and for all the help. Ilu.**

**P.S – I'm looking for a Beta, please let me know if you're interested :D**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter One – The Daydreamer, the Teacher and the Snowfall<span>**

Sarah smiled to herself as she braced the cold winter morning.

Yes, it was her first day back at high school following winter break and she could safely say that the holiday had left her thoroughly exhausted. Between helping her parents out with pre-Christmas preparations, going sledding with her younger brother and traipsing through the snow with Merlin she had been left with little time to herself. She never got round to finishing that book she had started a few weeks back either...  
><em>Not that I'm complaining or anything. I grew out of complaining years ago.<em>

In truth, it had been a rather enjoyable experience, and as much as she hated to admit it, part of it had been because of her step-mother, Karen.

Before her father remarried Christmases had left nothing to be desired, her mother flitting away to parties, leaving just her and her father alone in their big house. But with Karen and Toby, things just seemed to piece together. Sarah felt she no longer belonged to a broken family but a kind and loving one, even if she did still occasionally argue with her step-mother.

She just wished that it hadn't taken a stupid wish against her brother to realise how lucky she had become. Real or not real, she was such a brat back then.

Looking out past her driveway and out towards the street, she was astounded by how much it had snowed overnight. A pristine layer had covered the older, more discoloured snow and had generously coated the trees and rooftops.  
><em>All this white – It's like that part in 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe' when Lucy goes through the wardrobe and discovers Narnia.<em>

As she stepped out onto the sidewalk she couldn't help but smile gleefully. It felt so good to feel the crunching of fresh snow beneath her feet, knowing that she was the first one to have walked on it that day.  
><em>Let's hope there's no scary White Witch waiting round the corner to enchant me with Turkish delight.<br>But at least it wouldn't be a peach... _

Scowling momentarily at the thought of hallucinogenic peaches; she tried to focus back on her previous train of thought, the snow. After all, winter was Sarah's favourite season, and she really did love the stuff. It had enigmatic charm, transforming any landscape as if by magic into something out of a fairytale.  
><em>Magic... Fairytales... It all reverts back to the labyrinth. Even the gown I wore that night was like the snow I see now. A beautifully pure weight that sparkled in the light... That same dress from when I danced with...<br>_  
>Stopping at the gates of her house, she briefly chided herself for where those thoughts were leading. All these musings had stemmed from the dreams she had started having a couple of weeks back. Every night she would dream of the labyrinth; of her friends, her adventures, even <strong>him<strong>. Ever since it was as if she was possessed or under some magic spell. Every other thought had been about the labyrinth. She kept making comparisons and links between even the most absurd things. But in her head they all seemed linked to the labyrinth.  
><em>And for a second there I almost let myself think about the person responsible for me going there in the first place. I just need to stop thinking about it all. I just need to clear my head.<br>_  
>She sighed inwardly, trying her best to banish all labyrinth-related (and those specifically of the goblin king variety) thoughts as she made her way down her street. It was all so confusing. She had always thought that what had happened had been a dream. It had been nearly three years since her adventures in the Labyrinth and she was finding it hard to be anything but the result of her over-active imagination. But surely, one does not dream about what was essentially a dream itself. It had to be just that; a dream. The whole experience had been so frightfully bizarre. It wasn't like she could seek solace in the fact that Toby too had experienced it either. He was only a baby then. Perhaps it was just a bad case of denial, or worse, she was losing her sanity.<p>

In truth, she wanted to believe, so much so. But ever since that night she had seen neither hide nor hair of **him** or any of her friends.  
><em>Hoggle, Sir. Didymus, Ludo... My friends...<em>  
><em>... Just as I was beginning to put the past behind me these stupid dreams bring it all back up and make me feel dreadful. It's far too early to be thinking of such depressing things...<em>

* * *

><p>Feeling a tad cranky and not too concerned about being on time, Sarah shuffled into her first period class, English literature. Taking a seat in her usual spot, she got out her notebook and with a stretch of her limbs prepared herself for a horrible lesson.<p>

In her other classes this would be the ideal place for one to sit. It was not too far forward that you would be picked out for questions but not too far back that you would be harassed by the troublemakers of the class. It was not in the middle of the classroom either, but against the wall and gave a stunning view of the neighbouring park through the window.  
>However, in this particular lesson it was not an ideal spot. In fact, it just seemed to land Sarah in a lot of trouble.<br>It was the perfect spot for a daydream such as Sarah Williams, and this lesson certainly warranted daydreaming.  
><em>Daydreaming is far better than having to sit through this class, even if I only end up dreaming about the same thing as last night.<br>_  
>It wasn't the subject itself that Sarah hated, rather her teacher, Mrs. Letterman.<p>

Mrs. Letterman was a woman so ancient that often Sarah wondered if she was alive when most of these novels were written. She also had a teaching style reflective of her age. She was a very old fashioned woman and as a result was rather boring. She was fond of analysing texts in a strict and efficient manner, speaking in a monotonous, upper class voice that read passages of text as if rattling off the contents of a grocery list.

It irritated Sarah immensely; she loved literature with a passion. Next to drama, it was one of her favourite subjects and through her mother had taken a keen interest as a child. But this teacher sucked the life out of it, and what made it worse was that she was constantly picking on Sarah to answer questions, knowing fully that she was not paying attention. When she did answer Mrs. Letterman would tell her that her opinion was wrong or say that she failed to mention literary devices in enough detail. How could opinions even be wrong? Surely literary devices aren't the be all and end all of literature.

After all, was literature not supposed to arouse the emotions within? Was it not supposed to communicate with the reader, the descriptions allowing them to envision landscapes that would have otherwise been foreign to them? Where not the authors of books such as _Pride and Prejudice_, _Moby Dick_ and _The Scarlet Letter_ writing in order to convey a message, instead of showing off their intelligence with their clever uses of juxtapositions and metaphors?

Reclining into her seat in her usual manner, she was about to let herself slip away into reverie when the buzz of the classroom simmered down, alerting her to an authoritative presence in the room, her principle.  
>But the arrival of the principle usually meant one thing...<br>_New teacher._  
><em><br>_Her principle had sauntered into the room with unnatural gusto considering it was a cold Monday morning. This shocked Sarah, as normally the women wore a much sterner expression. Even weirder was that her face was flushed. She was a rather stout woman in her mid fifties, with a round face that was always a rosy pink on the best of days. That being said the colour of her face resembled more of a tomato colour. Sarah briefly wondered what could have caused her to look so embarrassed.

"Good morning class. As some of you may not be aware, your teacher, Mrs. Letterman will be away for the rest of the academic year as she is currently recovering from an operation. In her stead, I introduce her replacement for the remainder of the year, Mr. King."

Before anyone could even question the prospect of a new teacher the whole room was suddenly silenced as the man in question stepped through the doorway.  
><em>Oh... my...<em>

* * *

><p><strong>I wonder who this person could be... *cough* Jareth *cough* <strong>

**Anyway, please review :D I'd really appreciate it.  
><strong>


End file.
